Crisp autumn morning
India is in the air
It’s not the smell
It’s the light
The chill of early cold season sun
The streets are waking up
I’m off somewhere
And so are they
It’s almost a smell
I miss India every now and then
I wonder when I will go back
It’s not easy
Between a pandemic
And limited leave
I try not to think too hard
Tears are already in my eyes.
Similar Posts:
- Sleeping in India and Putting My Brain Straight [en] (2015)
- Love the Chaos [en] (2011)
- Meeting [en] (2001)
- The Shattering of my Faith in Our Future [en] (2022)
- Pandemic Snippets 2 [en] (2020)
- Depending on my Hearing Aids [en] (2014)
- Grey Sky [en] (2021)
- The Speed of Time [en] (2017)
- Being an Adult [en] (2004)
- India [en] (2001)
Also published on Medium.